Black roses
by Halo88
Summary: What's worse than a captured Winchester? An uninhibited Winchester on the warpath to save his brother, no matter the cost. Sam made Dean a promise, and a Winchester always keeps their promises, regardless of the consequences. Just how far will Sam go? Set after s09 finale.


Black roses

I don' usually write stories inspired songs, however, I have had this song playing in my head and it makes me think of the current relationship between Dean and Sam. So here we go; I hope you like it!

Black roses:

I can see your eyes staring into mine,  
>But it's a battlefield and you're on the other side.<br>You can throw your words, sharper than a knife,  
>And leave me cold in another house on fire.<p>

I lay low, lay low and watch the bridges burn  
>I lay low, lay low. What more could I have done?<p>

[Chorus:]  
>Now you only bring me black roses,<br>And they crumble into dust when they're held  
>Now you only bring me black roses,<br>Under your spell

Overwhelming sadness permeated Sam's very soul. His heart beating in slow, painful thumps, pushing the sorrow through his veins, like poison. Alone. All alone. His already fragile world was folding around him, peeling like perished wallpaper and smothering him with pain and grief. Dean was gone; changed into the very nightmares they hunted. His partner-in-crime, his big brother and his best friend; stolen away from him by the forces that have chased them their whole lives.

A cold surety had seeped through Sam's misery; no matter what it took, he would get Dean back from the reaches of Hell. They had both escaped before they would do it again. He had to because God knows Sam just couldn't deal with this anymore; he needed Dean by his side and he wouldn't settle for less. He made Dean a promise, and a Winchester always keeps their promises, regardless of the consequences.

"Cas! Castiel! I need you; please Goddamn it. _Cas_!" His tear torn voice broke off in his plea, a litany. He waited for his savior. And waited. "Dick." Tight, angry fists connected with the unforgiving concrete wall; sweet, angry pain swept through him and stoked the fires of his wrath. It centered his thoughts and helped him focus. Once again, the angels were not there in his moment of need. Even after everything they had done to help fix their Goddamn messes.

A gentle whisper of tired wings grazed Sam's ears and he breathed a sign of relief. "You came, I thought- Cas what's wrong?" Worry peaked his pitch and he stepped towards the weary angel.

"I came as quick as I could, it is safe to say that everything is in fact wrong. Dean? Metatron said- he said that Dean was dead. Is this true?" anxiety creased Castiel's brow, a glimmer of hope in his eyes quickly fading when he noticed the copious amounts of blood on Sam's hands, face and clothes and the look of grief that infiltrated the cold shutters Sam usually has in his eyes for self-preservation.

"No. He's- something has corrupted him. Crowley. He's responsible. I don't understand how, but Dean's a-" he drew a shuddering breath through his cracked lips, summoning the courage "he's a demon."

Bewilderment crept across Castiel's usually stoical features; his bloodied eyebrow quirked and tangled crumples appeared on his brow. "How is that even possible? His anti-possession sigil? Unless…" realisation dawned on the wrecked angel and he briefly closed his eyes in sorrow. "The Mark of Cain."

"I'm done being the one to pick up the broken pieces of my life, my soul and my family. This is not something I can live with, or something I will live with. I will do anything. What ever it takes. Cas- _find him_."

"Sam, you have to realise that he's not your brother, at least, not now. You have to realise that you may not like what you find. You may have to, what is it you two call it? 'Gank' him.'

Grasping the collar of Castiel's shirt, Sam pinned him against the wall. "Don't you _ever _talk about my brother like that. If you-" he paused to cast wild eyes over Castiel's face "if you even _think_ of hurting him, I will kill you and even God won't be able to save your arse again. Do you hear me? I said, _do you hear me?_" his venomous tone oozed the power of his conviction and Castiel knew that Sam was at breaking point. What's worse than a captured Winchester? An uninhibited Winchester on the warpath to save his brother, no matter the cost.

"I hear you Sam, but hear me also. If your brother poses a threat, I will stop him; in his right mind, Dean would not want to be a gross violation of all that is pure. I will find him for you, but do not forget I serve a greater purpose; Metatron reminded me of this, as did Dean." Without giving Sam a chance to retaliate, Castiel swept out of existence, like dust in the wind.

As if he was on autopilot, Sam found himself at the weapons cache in the trunk of the Impala, rifling through to find an appropriate range of ordnance. When you go on a bear hunt, you need to be well equipped; Sam knew from many years of experience that if you want to catch a bee, you need the best honey.

_2 weeks later_

Taciturn, devious eyes assessed the rough, young man in front of her. His were like insights into a dark dimension, radiating wrath, agony and resolve. Prematurely ancient and once innocuous, an alteration had evolved this man into a more precarious subjugator.

"You do r_ealise_ who I am. Don't you?" Contentment and accomplishment edged her tone as her captor provided her with the attention she so desperately desired; she wanted to see his face when he realised the tremendous error he had made in capturing her. Fear fueled her presence. And the fall of a Winchester was the most coveted incident since the downfall of the Archangels. "I am one of the most venerable demons in existence, loyal to the Great Lucifer and –"

"Yes Belial, I know _exactly _who you are." Not one morsel of sentiment or intent intonated his retort.

"Then you know, you cannot even _dream _of keeping me captive!" Antipathy and revulsion delivered her incredulity at his stupidity.

"Now, I can see a slight look of confusion on your face… I'm gonna go ahead and guess that you have tried to smoke on out of your meat suit… and that you're now probably thinking that I have in fact, branded you with a flesh sigil… you'd be right. You're locked in there good and proper. Sucks to be you right now, don't it?" A brief satisfied smirk swept across his cold hard face.

"Oh Sammy, what about my poor, poor host who is trapped in here, watching everything you are doing, absolutely paralysed with fear" Triumph flittered across her face, knowing the age old Winchester weakness; saving innocents.

Kneeling in front of Belial, Sam's sad eyes leveled with hers and with a deep sigh he whispered, "I'm sorry, whoever you are, if you're still alive. If you have brother, or a sister, then you'll understand. You won't make it out alive, this will be unimaginable torment, but this needs to happen. I have to save my brother. I'm sorry. Deus misereatur; Deus, propitius esto mihi peccatori"

"Little Winchester hasn't got it in him to torture anyone… you haven't got what it takes kid. Trust me; I'm an expert and that delicious big brother of yours? Well, let's just say Dean is the Winchester 'King of the Racks.'" Cruel laughter echoed around the empty room and the sigil engraved chains rattled its own forbidding mirth as Sam turned to face the pathetic creature.

"Well, that would be your second error of the day. The first, well, that was opening your demon whore mouth and uttering my brother's name. The second one? Assuming that there is a part of me that wouldn't do whatever it goddamn takes to get my brother back. And hiding behind the misguided, unfounded belief that I won't skin you alive until you start singing the tune I am looking for, well, that's the biggest one yet. When will you dicks get it? If you play with the Winchesters, you'll end up burnt. So, if I were you, I'd get comfortable because you are going no-where until I am finished with you. You'll be begging me to end your life by the time I am through with you." His hand hovered over an array of inscribed blades, each as sharp as Lucifer's tongue itself, settling on a thin slice of hell he turned to face his captive. "Darlin' if you think a year and a half as Michael and Lucifer's punching bag taught me nothing, then you are in for a crude awakening." Darkness glimmered in his eyes, projecting a perfect balance of hatred for her and pure, unadulterated love for his brother. And in that instance, the air of arrogance left Belial, the intemperate desire of the youngest Winchester infused her essence. This twisted creature, hell bent on finding his brother, had crossed a nefarious line upon which he would never return from.

"It's true" words fought to escape her tightened throat. "It's all true. You _have_ become a monster. I didn't think it was possible" harsh air hissed its emission through pained teeth, Sam's sliver of justice slid deep beneath the packaging of Belial. "I thought- _argh_- the stories were- _gah_- exagger-" Wave upon wave of screams reverberated the lifeless, unforgiving stone walls. Blades of torment danced across her skin, scrapping and slicing. Seconds bled into minutes bled into hours. Sins were written across his face, as he carelessly dragged his ruined sleeve across it.

"Where's Dean?" Blow after shattering blow lashed upon her, each a statement of Sam's fixation. "Where's my brother? Where's Dean?" Hoarse with exertion and over-use, his words no longer made sense, they were just an entreaty for his devastated soul. "Where's my brother?"

He knew, in the deepest reaches of his heart, he knew he had transcended the point of no return and blackened his essence. He was no longer whole; he was devastated and damaged. It was no longer a matter of saving his brother; it was now about having his moral compass back, the person who prevented him from embracing his barbaric, ferocious side that was driven by rage. Every single person misjudged the brothers; every single person assumed it was Sam who was the angel on Dean's shoulder, but they could not have been further from the truth. Sam had a darkness in him that only Dean could prevent. To regain his conscience, he had to continue down this landslide. He had to be utterly broken for Dean to be able to rebuild him.

"STOP. PLEASE, OH GOD- STOP!" Defeated. Conquered. Vanquished. "I can't go on, please Sam_ stop_. I don't know where he is- Crowley, he has him protected." Sobs wracked her violated body; blood poured freely as she fought unconsciousness, self-preservation knew her best chance for survival was to stay lucid. Resolve and understanding flickered painfully across her wretched face. "When you dance with the devil, you wait for the music to stop. Do what you must; I have no answers for you, I don't know how you'll find him." Labored breath drew blood into her mouth and she spluttered violently. "You are screwed Sam Winchester; you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. What you have become, both of you, I don't know what's worse. Your poisonous desire to save each other will be the ruin of this world. Have you every thought that-" ruby red droplets misted the air as she shuddered another vigorous cough, this did not disturb Sam from his ministrations, he was bent over his table of instruments, scribbling on something."- Have you ever thought that after fighting so damned hard to save the world from the evil, that maybe _you two _are the biggest threat to humanity?" an infusion of maniacal and desperate laughter flooded the room.

Incensed by her words, Sam picked up a pernicious blade and faced her full on. "Speak not of things you do not understand. The things we have done, the evil we have stopped is endless. We have known infinite loss and you, vile, despicable abomination, know nothing of what it means to be human."

"Oh Sammy, It is you who is the abomination now." Her laugh resonated through the very fibers of Sam's soul, forever latched onto his psyche and etched into his reason. He knew, in the deepest reaches of his heart, he knew Belial was right about him. He caste his eyes down as he launched the merciless dagger towards his victim and after cautiously packing his implements of torture away, he left behind all traces of his indiscretions and the remnants of his humanity.

"Well, well, well. Looks like Moose has finally upped his game. I'm not sure you are the only one who has taken a howl at the moon; he's dangerous to you now, he wants you back so desperately, he is willing to do _whatever_ it takes." Crowley's contemplative tone barely scratched the surface of Dean's hardened shell. "I believe it's safe to say, you have lost your title as King of Torture. Your little brother has surpassed you. You must be _so proud_."

"Screw him, he can't touch me now. Oh how the mighty have fallen, _Sammy._" A cruel, pale imitation of long forgotten affection. Thinly veiled amusement and cruel gratification arranged the features of Dean's untroubled face. "I think you have more to worry about than I do" He swept his hand, gesturing to the desecrated body of Belial, hanging like meat in a butcher's store. Beneath her lay a lifeless, silent threat; a black rose.

Buried deep within her impassive heart lay Sam's knife, beneath it, a blood spoilt message: _Crowley, you're next._

"Bring it on, _little brother."_

**Deus misereatur- May God have mercy on your soul.**

**Deus, propitius esto mihi**** peccatori- God have mercy on me, the siner. **


End file.
